Perennial Scars
A poem
Rivers flow, so I bid you to let them do
what they do best. I ache from a myriad of
sorrows and bleed treacherous rivers that
threaten with sweeping tides.
I had joy officiating the glow of many
mornings and I blossomed more fantastically
than roses rooted in nutritious soil. I opened
my splendour to the heavens and received the
wealth of unwaning thrill.
The expertise of my heart was to trade the
currency of love and bargain affections in
rowdy, boisterous marketplaces. I found men
as they found me, and the deprived had company
from powers of acquisition.
Charm is the fervent glow of phenomenal
energy, so I stripped my beauty bare and
unclothed the idyllic shine of my mortal flesh.
This sparked a romantic crusade of smitten men
propelled and besotted with base, sensual lusts.
At the strength and peak of my motions,
I owed my love only to one, for I adhered to
the principles of monogamy and true, allegiant
coupling. You were the man of my choice for
you raved and yearned so intensely for my
intimate exclusivity.
Your purse was unlikely to boast of the
wealth in a treasure trove and neither did
you wear the appeal of the fanciest, sturdiest
man of the century. Your gait fell short of
elegance, and you were bereft of confidence
in many lacking ways.
Yet you were more promising in the midst
of that teeming throng and you fought like
love was the mechanism that empowered
your breath. You plunged into the very depths
of desperation for the possession and clasping
of this high-class affair.
I admitted you down and deep in the recesses
of my heart and fed you the utmost blisses of
Heaven. I gave all my secrets a lucid voice so you
understood the tone and literature of my privacy.
But now you’re a sadistic beast beyond
containment and every chance is a means to
prove savage and be utterly animalistic. You
tear my soul with the strength of your
claws — beyond count and repetitions.
I’m arrayed as a ravaged female from
many poor choices and my wounds fester,
year on year. I have no emotions to continue
the trend of love but all I boast of are these
pathetic, perennial scars.
© Valentine Nnebe 2023
All Rights Reserved
